And So It Is
by UA
Summary: Hank distantly heard Charity gasp behind him, and he felt a cold chill travel through him when he saw the red-stained hands, the grubby nails, and the evidence of dried tears on his nephew's face.
1. Prologue

**Title: **_And So It Is, Prologue  
_**Rating: ** PG  
**Warnings: **adult themes/situations  
**Characters/Pairings: **Sheridan, references to others  
**Summary: prompt: dim;** _Sheridan moans as she comes to, fights against the drugging darkness of oblivion that grasps and wrenches at her with its greedy hands. _

* * *

_Thud. _

_Thud. _

_Scrape. _

Sheridan moans as she comes to, fights against the drugging darkness of oblivion that grasps and wrenches at her with its greedy hands. Her head feels too large, her mouth dry and cottony, her limbs disconnected from her brain.

_Thud. _

The noise this time is accompanied by a tickling sensation across her face, light and barely there, similar to that of an insect's crawl. _Or that of a spider. _The thought makes Sheridan's breath quicken, makes her sluggish heart beat accelerate. The steady, nauseating throb at Sheridan's temple becomes a constant, overpowering thing that makes opening her eyes difficult if not impossible to accomplish, and she becomes aware of her own harsh, panicked panting as the noise is repeated.

_Thud. Thud. Scrape. _

The tickling sensation returns, more insistent than before, and a damp, earthy smell fills Sheridan's senses, sharpens her fear-muddled brain, forces open her eyes. A scream crawls forth from her lungs, lodges in her throat, robs her of precious oxygen.

_Thud. _

_Thud. _

The wood is rough against her palms, splinter-ridden. Thin, pale shafts of twilight creep through its cracks, only to slowly disappear with each metallic scrape. A sob wells against Sheridan's lips when she recognizes the metallic scrape for what it is, catalogues the pungent smell when more earth showers down on her face, rains on her tongue. Tears slither into her hair, sting the bloody wound hidden just beneath its veil as the past minutes, hours, days come back to her. The voices bleed together, play in a constant loop of regret in her aching head.

("_You'll never be her. You'll never replace my mom."; "We don't have a future, Sheridan. Surely you can see that. We're from two completely different worlds."; "Are you sure you're okay doing this alone?"; "I told you to stay out of this, Sheridan. It doesn't concern you. But you never learn.")_

_Thud, thud, thud. _

Sheridan screams as the light grows dim, and finally, disappears.

* * *

**Apparently, the only way I know to combat writer's block is to start a new story. **

**;)**

**This fic will have multiple pairings and involves most of the Passions cast, with a little heavier focus on my faves, Sheridan and Luis. It won't be the Passions you know, but hopefully, you will easily recognize the characters and they will stay true to their cores. **

**And, as I can't seem to write a linearly plotted storyline lately (ugh!), this fic will jump around a bit, a la _Pieces of My Heart and Once Upon Another Time. _If that's not something you're into, you might want to bail now. I'll try to keep the confusion to a minimum; that said, don't hesitate to contact me with your questions. Feedback is a very valuable resource, one that I absolutely treasure. **

**I'm still working on my other stories. _Haunted _is really digging its heels in and Marty won't cooperate with his POV. I'm experiencing similar problems with the rest of my stories, but please know I'm not giving up on them. It doesn't help that my focus has been divided by real-life concerns lately. **

**I digress...**

**I'm simply putting this out there in the hopes that it will get those creative juices flowing again. **

**Feedback would be lovely. **

**Please, let me know if you're interested in reading more of this. **

**If you are, I'm going to try to gift you with weekly(weekend) updates, and see if a schedule benefits me. Hopefully, it will, and my words won't feel so stilted and wrong for my other stories, and I'll start marking them off as completed one by one. **

**A girl can hope, right? **

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**I promise...future author's notes won't be quite as long. **

**LOL!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: **_And So It Is, Chapter 1  
_**Rating: ** PG  
**Warnings: ** some language, adult themes  
**Characters/Pairings: **Spike, Luis, Ethan, Sam, reference to Theresa, Cranes, minor and original characters  
**Summary: prompt: hold; "**Lester is scum. Disgusting, vile scum. But the girl's already rescinded her earlier statement, and the rest of the evidence is so thin, it's transparent. I know you want to eradicate him and his kind from the streets of Harmony, for the safety of your daughter, your sisters, the rest of your family and families like yours. This isn't the case that's going to put him away."

* * *

"I don't have to force myself on my girls, Man," Herbert "Spike" Lester boasted. "They line up. They throw themselves at me."

Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald swallowed back his revulsion and shoved his chair back from his desk, the wheels squeaking in protest at the rough treatment. "Not this girl, Spike. Not this time," he stabbed emphatically at the yellow-lined notepad in his lap with his pen to make his point.

Spike sniffed in indignation, raised his cuffed hands to plow through his messy mop of dark curls. His left leg twitched restlessly, before he adopted an unconcerned slouch, his legs spread wide. His wild eyes were still glassy and bright from whatever high he was coming down from. He cocked his head to the side and considered Luis, and a small smirk bloomed across his generous mouth. "You got nothing. Hell, that little piece of ass practically assaulted me, what, with the way she was kicking and screaming. I got the bite marks to prove it."

"I'm sure you do," Luis couldn't help but let a little bit of his disgust bleed into his voice. "Quinlan," he called over his shoulder to the tall, stoic block of a man that was one of his most trusted colleagues. "Take Mr. Lester down to lock-up. Make sure he's comfortable. He's going to be with us a long time."

Spike regarded Luis with a confident, toothy smile. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Detective." He inhaled, long and slow, his nostrils flaring, and pushed himself back upright with feet flat on the floor as Quinlan approached.

"Did you hear that, Marty? Add threatening a police officer to Mr. Lester's charges, will you?" Luis tossed his pen and his notepad onto Spike's bulging file and eased himself back into his chair as he watched Quinlan haul their suspect to his feet and give him a none-too gentle push forward, not giving him a further chance to resist cooperating. When the pair had disappeared from sight, he turned his gaze to Lester's attorney, Ethan Crane.

Having finally rediscovered his power of speech, the younger man dispassionately agreed with his client. "He's right, you know. You have nothing to hold him on."

Luis lifted a disbelieving brow at the weakly spoken words of defense. "You're phoning it in, Crane. We both know your grandfather's lackey has his hands dirty."

Ethan sighed and loosened the constricting tie at his neck before casting a glance around the near-empty precinct. When he was certain no one was paying the two of them any special attention, he gratefully sank into the chair Luis nudged forward with his foot and rest his briefcase at his feet. Throwing one more furtive look around the station's perimeter, he lifted a tired hand to massage the gathering lines from his youthful forehead. "Off the record?"

"Do I look like the media?" Ethan's blue eyes narrowed, and Luis quickly reconsidered his sarcastic approach. Against his better judgment, he respected this Crane; he couldn't say the same about the rest of them. He softened his harsh tone as he belatedly agreed, "Off the record."

Ethan took a slow, deep breath and lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "Lester is scum. Disgusting, vile scum. But the girl's already rescinded her earlier statement, and the rest of the evidence is so thin, it's transparent. I know you want to eradicate him and his kind from the streets of Harmony, for the safety of your daughter, your sisters, the rest of your family and families like yours. This isn't the case that's going to put him away."

Frustrated, Luis shoved Spike's file aside a little harder than he'd intended, scattering the file's pages and almost toppling a silver picture frame in the process.

Instinctively, Ethan's hand shot out to right the frame before it could fall off of the desk's edge. He hesitated to hand it back to Luis, his gaze drawn magnetically to the sad blue eyes of the young girl in the picture. He looked back up sharply when he realized Luis was speaking again.

"An overnight stay won't hurt him. Maybe it will even help us."

"You say that like we're on the same side," Ethan stated as he stood back up, looked down at the detective that had been a thorn in his family's side for the better part of the last decade. He nodded to the frame in his hands. "She's a beautiful girl, Luis. You have to know, not all of us Cranes took pleasure in the pain of your loss."

Luis's wry smile fell away, twisted into something faraway and haunted before he digested the young lawyer's heartfelt words and snapped back into the present. "I believe we're working toward the same goal. We just have two very different ways of getting there."

Ethan nodded subtly and cleared his throat. He carefully replaced the frame on Luis's desk before bending to reclaim his briefcase. "I hope you don't mind if I take care of a few personal matters before I drop by to finalize Spike's release tomorrow."

"He's not going anywhere," Luis voiced gruffly. "We'll both be here," he promised. He watched Ethan go, his expensive suit sagging resignedly on this thin, weighted shoulders. He startled when he heard Sam's voice nearby, very nearby.

"Poor kid's nothing more than an indentured servant."

Luis had to agree. "He doesn't have that Crane bloodlust for money and power. I can't help thinking that he'd give it all up in the blink of an eye."

Sam Bennett's blue gaze was sharp and focused as a laser as he considered the departed Crane, thoughtful. "Ever wonder what the Old Man's got on him? He hardly seems wet behind the ears."

"Every closet has its skeletons, Sam," Luis quietly reminded him. He picked up a different frame than the one before, this one of a smiling, happy family, of a different time. "You know that."

Sam came around to perch on the edge of Luis's desk, watched him straighten and stow away Lester's file. He lifted his mug of coffee to his mouth, blew gently on it, and sent a curl of steam wafting skyward. Reading Luis's darkening mood easily, he shifted the topic of their conversation to something he hoped was much more agreeable. "How's Theresa doing with the move? She settling in?"

Luis placed the frame back in its designated space and deflected Sam's question with a question of his own, unready just yet to be pulled back from the black abyss of his deeply buried memories. "That your third or fourth cup?"

"Fifth," Sam admitted somewhat sheepishly, his cheeks stained with color. "But who's counting?" He set the chipped ceramic mug down, nudged it aside, and crossed his arms over his middle, waiting patiently for Luis's answer. "You going to rat me out to Grace? You know I'm not too fond of that tea with honey that she loves so much."

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" Luis lightened up enough to grin.

"Both," Sam answered, the smallest of smirks appearing on his lips. "You two getting along, living under the same roof again after all this time?" he asked, steering their conversation back to its original course, one he got the impression Luis would rather avoid altogether. "C'mon," Sam teased lightly. "She's got her own bathroom. It can't be _that _bad. What I wouldn't give for one bathroom for each female still living in my house." The comment had the desired effect, and Sam breathed a little easier when Luis chuckled and relaxed deeper into his chair, folding his hands over his lower abdomen.

"I thought Kay wanted to move out."

"Summer internships don't pay much, and T.C. put his foot down," Sam replied. "Kay and Simone aren't moving into their own apartment anytime soon."

"Too bad," Luis ribbed his good friend, "because you're seriously outnumbered."

Sam responded with a pointed reminder. "I'm not the only one outnumbered." He lifted the cooled coffee back to his mouth.

Unable to tap dance around the topic any longer, Luis shook his head and released a resigned sigh. "Sometimes I feel like I have two children in the house again."

Sam's eyes twinkled knowingly at first, but his amused expression grew more subdued when Luis likewise grew more serious, realizing what he'd said. "Luis."

"Sam," Luis warned, scrubbing a rough hand over the ghost of a five o'clock shadow. "Don't." Clearing his throat and glancing downward, he took his time before he met Sam's concerned gaze again. "Having Theresa there, it's good. For us both."

"For all of you," Sam told him as he stood back up, made note of the advancing hour. He grimaced momentarily at the pop and strain of his protesting joints and smiled grimly at his friend. "Sitting behind a desk is making me old."

"I thought it was the coffee and donuts," Luis joked.

Sam acknowledged his teasing with a smirk. "Grace invited Miguel over for dinner. What's a few more Lopez-Fitzgeralds?"

Luis politely turned down the invitation. "Maybe some other time. I want to see if I can get Marcy's friend to talk, give us something to tighten the screws on Lester before I head out. I'm tired of watching that piece of garbage walk, Sam." The heated flare of Sam's cool blue eyes told Luis he shared his sentiments on the crooked club owner, even if he did not voice the thoughts aloud.

"Next time I'm not taking no for an answer," Sam informed him as he turned to make his way back to his office and the work that had to be done as Chief before he could call it quits for the day. "I don't want to hear of you closing this place down again."

Luis couldn't resist having the last word. "This place never closes."

* * *

**So sorry for the delay in posting. **

**I actually had another version of this chapter ready to post Sunday, but I hated it so much I put it on the backburner. Then, an unexpected family crisis (that's really too strong of a word, but the correct word eludes me right now in my exhausted state) came up and I didn't get to go near a computer for the next two days. I finally got to sit back down with my laptop this evening, and believe it or not, ended up completely rewriting the chapter you just read. **

**I hope it was worth the wait and the story still has your interest piqued. **

**I know this chapter probably seems like miscellaneous filler at first glance, and it really is more of a starter, introductory chapter, but you got a lot of little pieces of information packed in a fairly short chapter, so I hope you can see we're only going to build from here. **

**Don't worry, Sheridan and Luis fans. Sheridan is definitely going to figure prominently into the story. She just didn't quite fit the prompt I had for this chapter. ;)**

**And I promised future author's notes would be shorter...oops. **

**I wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone that replied to the prologue, pm'd me, added this story to their alerts: Soul93, Christina, Quetalyn, and presley23, your interest and feedback made my day. **

**Seriously. **

**You have no idea how happy your messages made me, how much they motivated me to sit my butt down and start writing again (I've even gotten more ideas for some of my stalled stories, but alas, RL intrudes in the form of work tomorrow, lol, so any updates other than this story will just have to wait until I can find a moment to breathe). I'm going to try my best to get back on schedule with this story and have another chapter out by this weekend. **

**With motivation and inspiration, anything is possible. **

**:D**

**Thanks so much for reading and replying. **

**Feedback is love, love, love!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Title: **_And So It Is, Chapter 2  
_**Rating: **G, I suppose if you looked hard enough, PG. ;)  
**Warnings: **no warnings that I can think of.  
**Characters/Pairings: **Beth, Theresa, allusions to Beth/Luis, mentions of Alistair Crane, Hank, Lopez-Fitzgeralds, original characters.  
**Summary: prompt: tea-squint and you'll see that I do mention tea, but only in the vaguest sense, lol; **_Beth squeezed the warm hand held in hers. "Life happened, Theresa. Love, actually." _

* * *

The door groaned as Beth pushed it open with her shoulder and let one heavy paper bag of groceries slide down her leg to the muddy welcome mat below. The cheery yellow umbrella that she'd held in place between her neck and shoulder likewise tumbled to the floor when the second brown bag started to rip, and Beth made a desperate grab for it. "No," she cried as a container of cupcakes landed upside down beside the umbrella and apples started dropping and scattering like pinballs. "Oh no," she frowned as she crouched down to further inspect the damage, tossed aside the useless plastic bag the apples had been in.

"Beth, I thought that was…" Theresa's mouth opened and closed several times before she dropped to her knees across from her sister-in-law. She made a face when her thumb pierced the bruised flesh of one of the renegade apples and sought out Beth's eyes. "What happened?"

"It's raining cats and dogs out there," Beth murmured, still preoccupied with the ruined cupcakes. She stood back up slowly and glanced around the noticeably quiet foyer. "Where are the kids?"

"They're having a tea party in Aria's room," Theresa answered. "What happened? How did the meeting at the bank go?" she prodded impatiently, her large doe eyes alight with bottomless curiosity as she grabbed one of the bags and followed Beth into the kitchen. "Did they approve the loan?"

Beth's hand lingered on the milk carton as her thoughts drifted. The bank _had _approved the loan, but there were strings attached, strings that Alistair Crane just so happened to hold in his powerful hands. She closed the fridge and ran her fingers absently through her damp ponytail before turning to face the teenager.

"Beth," Theresa said again, wringing at her hands as she practically buzzed with anticipation. Unable to read the guarded expression on Beth's face, she begged, her excitement quickly morphing into dread, "Don't tell me I'm going to have to put in an application at the _Chicken Hut_."

The question refocused Beth, and she struggled to keep her amusement in check as she made a tight-lipped suggestion, "Maybe Hank can give you some pointers about that suit." She could hardly suppress the smile that threatened when Theresa reacted with her typical dramatic flair, flopping lifelessly into the nearest chair.

"I'll never make it into design school if I'm featured in the _What Not to Wear _section of the _Herald_."

"No," Beth clarified as she took in the abandoned math textbook and the notebook filled with sketches that had little to do with geometry (_not in the strictest sense anyway)_ open in front of Theresa on the table, "you'll never make it into design school if you don't take your classes more seriously."

"Now you sound like Luis," Theresa muttered, her chin cradled in her palm.

"Your brother's a smart man, Theresa," Beth told her. "He could have been…"

"A lawyer," Theresa finished for her with a small, disappointed huff. "I know." She picked up her pencil and started idly doodling more designs in the notebook's margins as she talked. "I still don't understand why he quit college. What happened?"

"You're asking that question a lot today," Beth commented as she joined her at the table, the container of cupcakes and two butter knives in hand, one of which she offered to Theresa. She mulled her words over carefully before she continued, watched the young girl pick up a cupcake and attempt to work her artistic magic with what was left of the icing. "You're not a little girl anymore, Theresa."

"Try telling Mama and Papa that," the fifteen year old responded. "Try telling my brothers. Particularly Luis."

Beth finally let her smile reign free. "Are you calling Luis protective?" she teased. The eye rolling response she got was swift and completely expected.

"You think?"

"Luis loves you."

"_I _love _him_. But don't you think he takes protective to a whole new level?" Without waiting for an answer, Theresa plowed ahead, nudging the finished cupcake aside for another. "I didn't think he could get any worse, and then he joined the police force."

Beth laughed and agreed. "He wouldn't be the Luis we both love if he didn't worry." She grew contemplative as she watched the gray drizzle falling in sheets outside, forgot all about the cupcakes, and thought of her day, the life she'd built so far with her husband. The police force hadn't been Luis's first choice (_neither had she_), but he'd committed himself to it one hundred percent, just like Beth knew she would commit herself to getting her café up off the ground. Dipping her finger into one of the more hopeless cupcake's frosting, she revealed, "I bought the cupcakes to celebrate."

Theresa froze, her finger halfway to her mouth. "Celebrate? Does that mean…"

Beth nodded, her beaming smile matching Theresa's wattage for wattage. "I'm the proud new owner of an as yet to be named café. You can hold off on that call to Hank." Theresa's high pitched squeal had Beth wincing, and her exuberant hug nearly knocked her out of her chair. Beth was still laughing and trying to right herself when her eyes connected with a pair of wide curious blue eyes as they peeked around a nearby bar stool. A little brown tousled head emerged a second later when she beckoned both of the children closer with a wave of her hand.

Theresa could no longer contain her squealing proclamation. "Mommy's got good news!"

"We get to have a puppy!"

"Ice cweam?"

Theresa looked at Beth and giggled. "Not a puppy, silly girl," she told Aria, picking her up and twirling her around and around until she was breathless with giggles herself, her small arms snaking around Theresa's neck and holding on for dear life.

Beth pulled her sooty-lashed little son into her lap and combed her fingers through his rough and tumble dark curls. "No ice cream for dinner either, Dyl."

The toddler's shoulders drooped in disappointment, and his stubby little fingers played with the beads of his mother's bracelet.

Beth traced the pout on his pink lips and winked at the pair watching them with twin smiles on their pretty faces. "Something even better." She grabbed one of the cupcakes, waved it beneath his wrinkled nose.

Aria's giggles started back up at the sight of pink frosting dotting her little brother's nose.

"Mommy's going to open a café," Beth explained.

Dinner, naturally, was something of an afterthought as they celebrated the good news with cupcakes (_and later resumed the forgotten tea party_).

They had just finished cleaning up the mess in the kitchen when the rain finally showed signs of slowing, and Theresa gathered her books in her arms and readied to set out for home. A few stars managed to peek beyond the remaining clouds and made the teen's long hair gleam against her shoulders as she turned to Beth and answered her own question, from before. "It was Aria, wasn't it? She's what happened."

Beth squeezed the warm hand held in hers. "Life happened, Theresa. Love, actually."

* * *

**So sorry for the delay in new chapters. **

**RL has really asserted itself this last week in the form of a loved one spending the whole week in the hospital and the loss of another member of my fur-baby family. **

**Thankfully, my loved one is doing much better, and the loss of my pet still hurts, but I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that it was time, however much I didn't want it to be. **

**Thankfully, I had more than two thirds of this chapter written. **

**I'm going to try to get another chapter out to you guys soon (sooner than next weekend soon) to make up for dropping off the face of the earth again. It's the best sort of apology because it's one of my favorite forms of distraction. ;) I make no promises, but know that I'm definitely going to try. **

**Thanks so much for the continued feedback on the story; Soul93, christina, and QuetaLyn...keep it coming. Your questions and comments truly do inspire me to keep going with the story whenever I hit a stumbling block (brick by brick, that writer's block seems to be falling away). **

**You can't imagine how much I appreciate it. **

**Feedback is love!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Title: **_And So It Is, Chapter 3  
_**Rating: **PG**-**13**?  
****Warnings: **some language, mentions of nekkidness  
**Characters/Pairings: **Hank/Gwen, mentions of Ethan, Sheridan, Luis, Theresa, Fox, other characters.  
**Summary: prompt: naked. **_Finally seducing her should have felt like a victory; Hank just felt the leaden weight of guilt sink deeper into his belly. _

* * *

Hank Bennett gazed down at the Avenue Montaigne, awakening slowly after a brief pre-dawn respite. The sleepy crawl of early morning traffic reminded him of home, and he bent to reach into his discarded pants pocket for his cell phone, let his thumb hover over the screen for several seconds.

The face that smiled back at him put the sensational Parisian sunrise to shame. The happy blue eyes almost disappeared in their slanted crinkles. The Bennett chin dimpled beneath a messy cloud of auburn curls.

Hank traced the proud line of the little nose, the faint scattering of freckles, and sighed. It had been too many long months since his toes had dug into the cool Harmony sand, seemingly forever since he'd tasted the salt tang of the Atlantic on his lips. Summertime in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower was something to behold indeed, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty of home and the family and friends half a world away. Pondering again if this mission were worth it all, Hank turned from the window and let his brown eyes drift over the gilded brilliance of the opulent room he'd spent the night in. He startled when he found a pair of brown eyes, big and bright and brimming with questions, staring back at him. "Hey. Just thinking about surprising you with room service," he lied as he set his phone aside. With a low whistle beneath his breath as he approached the rumpled bed they'd shared the previous night, he smiled at her. "Fantastic view."

Gwen Hotchkiss wrapped her arms around her legs, rested her chin upon her knees as she gave him a sideways, considering look. "It's not the Eiffel Tower," she finally commented ruefully, purposefully ignoring the flirtatious undertones of his comment. "Sheridan's suite…"

"Doesn't have you in it."

Gwen laughed, tugging the sheet tucked beneath her arms tighter around her breasts and scooting away from him when the bed dipped beneath the addition of his weight. "You're full of shit."

"And you don't know how to take a compliment," Hank chastised her. Indeed, her healthy skepticism and resistance to his charm had proven quite the challenge to his efforts to insinuate himself in Sheridan Crane's extremely small circle of friends. Finally seducing her should have felt like a victory; Hank just felt the leaden weight of guilt sink deeper into his belly. He attempted to silence his misgivings by slanting his mouth over hers.

Gwen melted slowly into his kiss, and the sheet fell away as she wrapped her arms around his neck, crawled into his lap. She tunneled her fingers through his messy brown hair, pressed her forehead against his neck as his hands slid down her bare back to her hips, her breath leaving her mouth in little pants. "I still can't believe I'm doing this."

"Doing what?" Hank mumbled into her hair, his knuckles rubbing carelessly up and down the pearls of her spine. His breath caught in his throat when he felt her thread her fingers through his own, squeeze his hand.

"This," Gwen repeated, lifting her head and staring earnestly into his eyes. "With you. I hope you don't think I make a habit of this."

"You don't?" Hank teased her gently. He sobered gradually as he recognized the unmistakable evidence of vulnerability lurking beneath her fiercely independent and self assured facade. He remembered the first sweet, hesitant kiss she'd given him the night before and realized just how truthful she was being with him. She looked so young to him then, her worldly, old soul airs cast away.

"Ethan and I have been promised to each other since we were children." Ducking her head, Gwen looked away, the sun's bright rays painting a clear portrait of her embarrassment. "There hasn't really been anyone else."

"No one?" Hank found himself asking, his breath inexplicably trapped deep within his lungs as he waited for her answer.

"No. Not until you," Gwen revealed sheepishly, her lip gathered between her teeth. She removed her hand from his, lifted it to his cheek, cupped his smooth jaw. "You saw those tabloids. I can't even sunbathe on a private beach with one of my closest friends without the paparazzi recording it for posterity."

"Not everyone's closest friend is Sheridan Crane," Hank reminded her, wisely neglecting to bring up the fact that they were sunbathing topless.

"Not everyone is betrothed to the Crane heir apparent," Gwen responded with a sigh, withdrawing herself from his arms and perching on the edge of the bed. She shivered when he skimmed his fingertips along the tender inside of her arm and rest her chin on her shoulder as she looked askance at him. "I love Ethan; I always have. We have a long history together. He and Sheridan are the best that family has to offer. But…"

"But you're not _in _love with him," Hank surmised.

"I'm not _in _love with him," Gwen murmured softly. "Still, that doesn't mean I want to hurt him. So, why don't you go take a shower while _I _order room service? I won't be long," she promised, pulling on a silk robe that barely covered the tops of her thighs.

The thought of her answering the door in the barely there robe filled Hank with an uncomfortable feeling, and he played it off by warning her, "Better be careful. Those paparazzi are sneaky bastards."

Gwen gifted him with a pleased smile. "The Plaza Athenee staff are very discreet, Jack. No one batted an eye when I smuggled you up to my room, did they?"

By the time Hank had exited the bathroom, his chest still bare and damp, his pants unbuttoned and slung low over his hips, there was a complete breakfast spread on the table, smoked Scottish salmon with a platter of fresh, sliced fruit, and several different choices of eggs.

Gwen lowered the lid of her laptop to meet his eyes. "I wasn't sure how you liked them," she explained.

"I'm not picky," Hank assured her with a wink, bending to grab a slice of orange and placing it in his mouth.

Gwen opened her laptop back up and hid her smile with it when he settled on the sofa and pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging them with one hand and eating with the other. She relaxed and enjoyed the companionable silence, absently accepting a piece of fruit here and there when he offered and nibbling on it as she scanned through her emails. Powering the machine down when she was finished with her perusal, she gazed out the window at the building hive of activity on the street below, a frown tightening her lips.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"They're worth much more than that," Gwen murmured distractedly.

Hank patiently waited for her to say more. Past experience told him she was needy and wanting for a listening ear; she would open up to him when she was ready.

"It's Ethan's brother."

Hank felt his gut tighten, fearful he knew exactly where this conversation was going and not liking it anymore than the first time he'd gotten wind of it through Luis's own sparsely worded emails to him. "Ethan's brother?" he reflected.

"Fox," Gwen elaborated with a disappointed sigh. "He's always been irresponsible, but this latest stunt…" Withdrawing her feet from his lap, she tucked them underneath her like a little girl. "He's gotten a girl in trouble, but he's not taking any accountability for his actions."

Hank kept his face carefully blank and nonjudgmental as he listened to her, pushed back his anger with reminders of his own guilt and culpability, using an innocent woman as a means to an end.

"Ethan's beside himself, says his brother met the girl somewhere else, but it turns out she's local, and there's bad blood between her family and Ethan's already. He wants to help her, but he doesn't know what to do."

"Maybe it's best he stayed out of it," Hank offered. "Sounds like a messy situation already. If there's already bad blood between the two families like you said-" He waited for her to take the bait and elaborate, but she never did, just fell silent, with an unreadable expression on her pale face. "Hey," Hank passed his hand in front of her face. "You okay?"

Gwen startled and unfurled her long legs, stood up and tugged self-consciously at edges of her robe as it rode up. "I'm fine, Jack. I think I'm going to take a shower and give Sheridan a call. I told her I would help her pick out a special gift for a friend's birthday coming up soon. Maybe we can get together later? The three of us?"

"Sounds good," Hank replied, standing up and kissing her temple before she could make her grand escape. He'd make his excuses later. "I'll just clean up and see myself out."

Gwen turned to him with a sad, apologetic smile on her lips. "I'm not kicking you out, Jack. This is just something I always help Sheridan with. I hope you understand."

Hank nodded and smiled at her. He understood alright. Better than she knew.

* * *

**And the mystery deepens as Soul93 would say. **

**;)**

**I hope I haven't lost the rest of you guys, as evidenced by your lack of responses to the last chapter. **

**Feedback is love, you guys. It is the inspiration that fuels me to keep working on these stories I write. **

**Anyway...I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **

**If there are any questions, please feel free to pose them. I will do my best to answer them, unless, of course, I can't without spoiling the story. **

**If the right inspiration strikes, I'll see what I can do about getting another chapter up soon to make up for the chapter lost. **

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Title: **_And So It Is, Chapter 4  
_**Rating: **PG-13?  
**Warnings: **adult themes, some language, off-screen violence  
**Characters/Pairings: **Hank, Bennett girls (+ Charity), mentions of Sam, Grace, original characters, minor character, Eve, brief appearance by Luis, more  
**Summary: prompt: murmur. **_Hank distantly heard Charity gasp behind him, and he felt a cold chill travel through him when he saw the red-stained hands, the grubby nails, and the evidence of dried tears on his nephew's face. _

* * *

"You know Dad's pissed at you."

"Watch your mouth," Hank warned his scowling teenaged niece. Setting the limp remains of his sandwich back down on the brown cafeteria tray, he mentally debated the worth of stuffing it back in its plastic wrapper for later. Ultimately, he decided against it; it tasted like cold, fishy styrofoam anyway. "What's he mad at me for now?"

Kay Bennett crossed her arms over her flat chest and slumped in her chair, rolling her eyes. "Like you even have to ask."

With Herculean effort, Hank suppressed his sigh. "Humor me," he finally said. "I'm asking." Grabbing her uncapped orange soda, he took a healthy swig, swishing it around in his mouth before he swallowed. "How can you drink that stuff? It tastes like…"

"Watch _your _language," Kay cut him off with a smirk. "Nobody else likes it," she shrugged. "I usually don't have to share."

Hank had to shake his head, recognizing traits of his own fourteen going on fifteen year-old self in the insolent girl. He knew her act well, knew she was about 98% false bravado and, right now, 2% confused and scared little girl inside. He leaned back in his chair, rocked it back on two legs, and gave her a serious look.

Kay looked up from the magazine she was boredly flipping through. "What?"

"Your mom's going to be okay," Hank told her. "And so is your sister."

Kay lifted the magazine up, covered her face from his view, and mumbled. "I didn't ask for another sister. One is enough. Don't even mention Stepford Charity."

Hank's lips quirked. Welcoming her long-lost cousin into the household hadn't been easy for Kay; playing second fiddle to the perky blond in Miguel's affections had been even harder. Add in Grace's surprise later in life pregnancy and the highs and lows of starting high school in the same year, and to say he really felt for the kid was an understatement. "I won't," he promised. His eyes narrowed when a closer look confirmed that the magazine in her hands wasn't a magazine at all, not in his opinion; it was one of those ridiculous tabloid rags, littered with pictures of Harmony's version of spoiled American royalty, Sheridan Crane, and her equally blond tagalong. The headline (_The Next Paris and Nicole?_) and vapid smiles left a sour taste in Hank's mouth, and he snatched the paper right out of her hands.

"Hey!" Kay cried indignantly.

"You shouldn't read that garbage." Ignoring her outrage, Hank raised a hand to wave at Charity and Jessica, looking a little lost with their own brown trays in hand several feet away. "Any news?" he questioned as the girls commandeered a couple of chairs from the nearest empty table and joined them.

Charity absently fingered the teddy bear charm nestled in the hollow of her throat. "Not yet. Dr. Russell promised to come find us when she found out anything."

Jessica chased a cherry tomato around her plate with her fork and studiously ignored the rest of them, all the while nervously biting at her lower lip.

Hank addressed Charity when she looked up again. "Where's Noah?"

"He went on a coffee run to the Book Café," Jessica interjected suddenly. "Why is nobody telling us anything? It's been hours."

"Labor takes hours, Einstein," Kay muttered, drawing her legs into her chair with her. Picking self-consciously at the gnawed ends of her nails, she resolutely avoided her sister's glare. "It's no different with babies that have Down Syndrome. All that time you've spent on Dad's computer when you thought nobody was looking should have told you _that_."

"A lot of things could go wrong with a _normal _baby, Kay."

Jessica's blue eyes widened the moment the words left her mouth, and Hank watched in horror as shamed tears started falling down her flushed cheeks. He prided himself on his ability to make the fairer sex smile, not cry; this whole situation was rapidly escalating out of his control.

"She's not some freak, Jessica," Kay angrily retorted as she stood up, glowering down at her kid sister. "She's our sister, and she's just as normal as you and me."

"I know," Jessica sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just meant…"

"I know what you meant," Charity soothed kindly, giving Jessica's clammy hands a gentle squeeze.

"We all did," Hank reassured her. Frowning up at Kay, he told her, "Sit down and cool it. I see Eve." Eve Russell's smile as she approached was a balm to their collective worries, and Hank felt like he could finally relax a little bit.

"Seven pounds, two ounces, and healthy, all things considered," Eve announced. "Dr. Andrews _did _hear a heart murmur when he examined her, but otherwise, your sister is showing no other obvious signs of a heart defect. Your mom knew you were worried about that, Sweetheart," Eve revealed to Jessica in a soft voice.

Jessica nodded without looking up, and Hank noticed Kay take a deep, subtle breath of her own.

"The doctors and nurses are going to keep a close eye on her and run a few more tests, but she's going to be fine. Grace, too," Eve added, easily anticipating the question poised on the tip of Charity's tongue. "She should be up for visitors in the next hour or so. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few patients of my own to check up on."

"Thank you, Dr. Russell," Kay said sincerely.

"Thank you," Jessica and Charity echoed.

Hank chipped in with his own expression of gratitude. "Thanks for keeping us in the loop." When Eve had gone, he looked around the small table at each of the youthful faces and smiled. "See? What did I tell you? Everything is fin…." His smile fell away when he spotted his nephew, looking pale and haunted as he stumbled down the hall aimlessly, his hands empty of the promised coffee. "What the hell…"

"You're really one to talk," Kay grumbled, frowning at her uncle when he shoved his chair back roughly and stood up, yelling her brother's name.

"Noah!"

"Jeez. Everyone can hear you," Kay muttered, tossing the tabloid and unfinished soda into the nearest trash can and following after Hank. She slowed to a stop, however, when she noticed that Noah was flanked by one of her father's most trusted young officers, Marty Quinlan. "Hey," she hissed when Jessica bumped into her from behind. Her sister whispered a question that their uncle echoed seconds later just a couple of feet away.

"What happened?"

The teen's dark hair fell across his eyes as he glanced down at his hands in horror.

Hank distantly heard Charity gasp behind him, and he felt a cold chill travel through him when he saw the red-stained hands, the grubby nails, and the evidence of dried tears on his nephew's face. "Noah," he heard himself say again, in a voice that didn't sound like this own. "What happened?"

Noah spread his fingers wide, turned his hands palm up and back over again. His wide blue eyes found Hank's face, and his voice was thin and strained when it finally fought its way through his trembling lips. "There was so much blood. So much. I tried. I tried but I couldn't do it. I couldn't stop it."

Hank cupped a hand over the back of the boy's neck when his eyes strayed again to his hands and gruffly pleaded with him to focus. "Whose blood, Noah? You're not giving me much to go on." Looking over at Quinlan when the boy remained mute, he grit out, "He's in shock. Help me out here, Marty."

Quinlan swallowed roughly and looked at Hank with troubled eyes, unwilling or unable to do as Hank had asked.

Just when Hank was about to loose control of his building anger, he felt a small hand wrap around his bicep, and Kay's scared voice close to his ear.

"Uncle Hank, look."

Hank followed her transfixed gaze further down the hall where Luis was trying to bully his way past a nurse at the ER entrance, Aria clinging desperately to him with all four limbs, her face hidden against his neck. Dylan was conspicuously absent, and Hank felt his stomach sink when he realized the little boy wasn't the only person missing from the picture. Fear gripped his throat in a stranglehold and rendered him speechless even when the words started bubbling up and out of his nephew's mouth.

"He was just a little kid. He never hurt anybody. And Beth. Beth was nice to everybody. They didn't deserve _that._"

* * *

**So...I know most of you probably weren't expecting another chapter featuring Hank so heavily, but for this particular chapter, his POV just felt more right than the others. Plus, I hope it gave you a little more insight into the mysteries surrounding him. More hints of his low regard for Sheridan and whatnot. **

**Hmm. Wonder what she did to deserve such feelings on his part? **

**Another piece of the puzzle. **

**I'm glad some of you enjoy the suspense (Soul93). I tend to play my cards close to the vest so I appreciate your patience. **

**Thank you guys for still reading and especially for replying. **

**Your reviews are much, much appreciated. I cannot tell you how much they inspire me to keep going. When I get a chance to recatch my breath from the hectic events of RL, do know that I'm still working on my other, older stories. I haven't abandoned them; I'm just going with the one that's writing itself right now. **

**;) **

**I told you...feedback truly is love!**

**I hope to have another chapter up soon and really delve some more into Sheridan's part in this story. I know I've only given you itty bitty glimpses so far, but I'm hoping you guys are along for the ride. **


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